Rêve de Moi
by KISAFREEDOMNESS
Summary: This is the story of a little boy, which in itself isn't so unusual- it's his secrecy. Ishida/Ichigo. Written by Kyou.


AN: I actually dreamed this one. Or, at least, it came to me as I was falling asleep. XD I actually wanted to write it then and there but I had school the next day :P I tried to make it "fairy-tale"-ish but last time I tried a new writing approach I got a nasty review .. So if you feel the need to say "I HATE IT DON'T WRITE LIKE THIS EVER AGAIN" please tell me WHY you hate it and HOW I can change it XD;; Another thing is that I really am not good at French. I tried my best though and I've had bad experiences with translators so I used a dictionary this time... I hope the title conveys what I was trying to get across owo;; If not, I'm sorry! XD;; One last thing- THERE IS TERRIBLE ITALICS ABUSE IN THIS FANFIC. I avoided quotations as much as I possibly could because I think I rely on talking too much in my fanfics ..;; Thank you, and without further ado, _Rêve de Moi _

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_rêve de moi _

ichigo x uryuu

one-shot

by kyou

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This is the story of a little boy.

Now, this may not seem all that unusual; after all, half- if not all- the stories on here are about little boys. No, this story is a bit... _different._

This little boy was exceptionally brilliant. He was absolutely incredible, and if he had been born in a different place, in a different time, to different people, he might have been hailed as a prodigy. He certainly had the potential.

For this little boy had trained since he was very young. His grandfather believed in him, you see, and took it upon himself to teach the little boy everything he possibly could. His father was absolutely against it- actually, he was a bit of a... prude back then. Was it out of fear? Jealousy? Well, it doesn't matter. He was what he was.

This little boy trained for a very long time. Somehow, in school, he managed to stay at the top of the class, and at home, he practised. By the time most children entered third grade, the seven-year-old boy had mastered every aspect of self defence.

All of a sudden, something terribly sad happened. In fact, it changed the little boy's life.

His grandfather- his friend, his teacher- passed away. This was no accident, mind you- he later found out who caused it and why. But that's another story, and if you are reading this, it is one you should know well.

Anyhow, it greatly affected the little boy and he trained harder than ever. By the time the little boy entered high school, he could sense things- call it a sixth sense, if you will. Because of this power, he very quickly realised when there was a- no, _two- _shinigami in this building and two other individuals with rather _unusual _powers.

Upon investigation, he learned their names and found out they were all in his class.

And the cause of all this spiritual chaos was none other than the person who did not know the little boy existed.

In reality, this didn't bother the little boy too much. He didn't like associating with people if he could help it- he didn't need help. So it only bothered him when the cause- the person who started this- approached him.

It bothered him because he realised that he had very quickly (and, in a way, furtively) fallen in love.

With a boy, no less. And a shinigami.

Of course, the boy was too, shall we say, _dense _to notice. After all, he hadn't noticed the little boy for at least half the year- he wouldn't notice this.

The little boy hoped this with all his might.

In the end, he was right. The boy didn't notice, not when the little boy started smiling more around him (_only him_), not when the little boy began to walk home with him (_only him), _not even when the little boy didn't seem to have any interest in girls _at all._ The little boy assumed it was because the other thought that he was simply peculiar.

And so, life carried on. The little boy and the others fought wars, and to paraphrase what a famous man once said so eloquently, they came, they saw, they conquered.

Of course they won the wars. Would you expect anything less from the little boy and his acquaintances at this point?

Anyhow, after everything was said and done, they were older. The little boy had learned a lot from the experiences, problems had been solved, and everyone was taller. Trivial matters.

But the little boy was still in love with his now-best-friend (or, at least, that's what the little boy considered the other as) and the other boy was blissfully oblivious.

The little boy had quite a dilemma on his hands.

In the rational little boy's mind, there were several outcomes to this problem, which he had conveniently named A, B, and C just in case anyone ever asked. (No one ever did.)

Outcome A was that the little boy would tell him that he was in love with him, and he would be shot down and possibly ridiculed for the rest of his life (which was an awfully long time). This was very likely to happen.

Outcome B was that the little boy would tell him that he was in love with him, and his feelings would be reciprocated by the other and they would promptly be married (or something of the sort. When it came down to it, the little boy was terribly unromantic.) This outcome was highly unlikely.

Outcome C was that the little boy would not tell him and everyone would carry on with their happy lives. This was the most likely to occur.

Of course by now you must be thinking, "Well, yes, everyone _else _would carry on with their happy lives, but what about the little boy? He wouldn't be very happy, now would he?"

Well, no, he wouldn't. But the little boy was willing to make sacrifices.

Carrying on. The little boy was walking home and thinking how nice it would be if no one ever needed to get hurt when he witnessed something he dearly wished he had never seen.

He saw the boy. _Ah, _you think. _The story must be ending. _Well, no. Because the boy was not alone. He was with a girl.

And actually, they were kissing.

This shocked the little boy so much that he didn't check to see whom was kissing whom. (And honestly, if your heart was currently splintering into a million pieces, you wouldn't think to check either.) The only thing on his mind was to get out of there as soon as possible.

So he ran. He ran, and ran, without caring who saw him, and even when his vision blurred and his eyes burned, he continued to run. It was all he could do.

It hurt. Of course it did. But the little boy- that sad little boy- could not say anything to anyone because no one knew. Growing up, he had been taught to trust no one, as it would only lead to even a greater mess. With this in mind, he had told only himself, and even then it had taken a while to admit that yes, he was in love, and yes, the object of his affections was a boy.

By the time he realised what he had done and come to his senses, it was nine-thirty at night and he was in bed. When and how he had gotten there, he could not recall. It didn't really matter.

The little boy did not go to school the next day. He refused to answer his phone, ignored any e-mails, and locked his door.

Some time later, the doorbell to his loft rang. The buzz resounded through the empty space. The little boy ignored it the first few times, but the buzz became angrier and the silences in between shorter. Finally, the persistent visitor banged on the door, yelling that he knew the little boy was in there and he just wanted to give him the homework for that night.

The little boy, upon recognising the voice as the boy's, replied that he could leave the papers by the door or shove them through the mail slot.

When the boy had heard this, he replied that there were too many papers to shove through and he didn't want them to get stolen. He also said something along the lines of, "I knew you were there", sounding much like a triumphant child who has just been potty-trained for the first time.

The little boy had to laugh at this idea and, without thinking, opened the door.

Horrified, he shut the door quickly.

Then, once he realised what he had done, he became even more horrified at the fact that he had slammed the door in the boy's face and opened the door again, apologising profusely.

The other boy grinned sheepishly, replying that it was no big deal and hey, why didn't the little boy look or sound sick?

The little boy's caustic reply was that ah, perhaps he had gotten better but now was feeling much worse upon seeing the other boy.

The little boy thought that maybe, just maybe, he had seen sadness and hurt flit across the other's face, but even he knew that that was wishful thinking. He ignored it and continued to ask him what he wanted, to which the other answered that he wanted to deliver his homework. The little boy informed him once again that he had succeeded in his mission, so what was he still doing here?

_If I didn't know better, _the boy laughed, _I'd think you were trying to get rid of me. _

An awkward silence filled the room, and the little boy fidgeted uncomfortably.

The boy looked hurt. _I'll leave, _he offered. The little boy shook his head because, as we all know, that was possibly the last thing he wanted. The little boy told him that it was fine, he could stay, and did he want a glass of water?

As he busied himself getting the drinks, the other boy looked around the small room. It was mostly empty, and he could see a hallway, but that was all. Our not-so-formidable little hero lived alone, and did not fuss much over decoration, as he was at school most of the day.

When the other boy asked if he was lonely, the little boy was somewhat surprised. He had to take a moment to think- was he lonely?

Let us take a moment to venture into our main character's mind. Would you be lonely in his place? He was in love with someone who may never love him back, he lived alone, and his life was filled with school and work. On the weekends he sat on his bed, tapping away on his laptop and reading. I believe I speak for most of us when I say that yes, I would be rather lonely in his spot.

After a few minutes of pondering, the little boy answered that yes, perhaps he was a bit lonely, (which was one of the biggest understatements of the century, but that's beside the point) but it didn't really affect him much as he was busy most of the time.

_But what about the times you are not busy? _the other inquired. The little boy merely shrugged and commented that all loneliness passes eventually, even when it seems it will not. The other murmured that he thought that was a very sad way to live, but the little boy pointed out that no one had asked him (which, however rude it may be, was true) and besides, who would live or want to come over anyways? He was currently ignoring his father, he had no siblings, and his friends stayed away.

The boy's next comment surprised the little boy very much and stayed with him the rest of his life.

_I would come over_, he said, carefully sipping his water. The little boy stared at him, disbelieving, and muttered that he would get bored. _I don't think so_, the other smiled. _You're an interesting person. _

The little boy did not think so at all, and simply shrugged. The comment did not seem to affect him, but he had to turn his face to hide his smile. He was happier than he had been in a very long time, but his happiness was burst by the memory of his friend kissing a girl.

Half-afraid to say anything, he made a side-comment that he didn't know that he had a girlfriend. The other boy looked surprised and asked what the little boy was talking about, and the little boy told him about what he had seen.

The other boy blushed furiously and stammered that she wasn't his girlfriend; she had simply told him that she wanted to speak to him. He had naively agreed to meet her after school, and she, as he put it, "attacked" him. He insisted he really had no part in it, had no feelings for her whatsoever, and actually was in love with someone else.

Upon realising what he said, the boy's face turned redder than the little boy had thought was even possible. Attempting to change the subject, the other boy asked his raven-haired friend whom he loved, and was she pretty?

The little boy did not know how to answer the question while still avoiding the truth. He finally said that he thought they were nice-looking, but he couldn't tell his friend their name.

The other boy either ignored or overlooked the fact that the little boy had used genderless pronouns, and continued to press on. Was she in his class? Did she had long hair? Was she taller than him?

The little boy answered all the questions methodically until they came to the last: did the boy know her well?

The little boy quietly answered yes, but that it really wasn't any of his business so could be please stop?

The other boy looked slightly concerned, but stayed quiet and stared at his friend.

The little boy sighed and quietly informed him that it was getting late, and that he would see him the next day at school, to which the other reminded him that it was a Friday. The little boy remarked that in this case, he would see him Monday.

As soon as the words left his mouth, something very interesting happened. His vision began to blur again and it felt as if a great weight had suddenly been placed on his chest. He could hardly breathe, and for a second, he couldn't imagine the boy ever leaving.

After this moment, his mouth began to move on it's own accord, forming words in a voice that wasn't his (it couldn't _possibly _be his- it was filled with a confidence that he most certainly didn't have) and he heard himself telling the boy that actually, if he wanted to come over the next day, that was okay because he really didn't have anything scheduled tomorrow.

The boy grinned amiably and said that yes, he'd like to come over. The little boy nearly fainted with relief; he hadn't thought of what he would do if the boy said no.

So they said their farewells, and the little boy went to bed. He fell asleep with the day's memories fresh in his mind.

The next day the boy came as promised, and they had lunch together, talking about books, food, and sewing.

Somehow the conversation shifted back to what they had been talking about the previous day, and the boy asked our bespectacled friend if he had ever thought about dating one of the girls in their class.

The little boy sighed and informed him that no, he hadn't.

Something in his tone of voice must have told the other boy something, because he finally realised that perhaps the reason the little boy hadn't thought of dating one of the girls was because he didn't _like _girls. He voiced this idea out loud, and with some reluctance, the little confirmed that yes, he had absolutely zero interest in girls. He looked up to see the other boy's expression with some trepidation, but the other boy seemed to be in deep thought. The little boy summoned enough courage to ask him what he was thinking.

_Oh, you know, _he said airily. _Stuff. Just like... is it any different? Kissing a guy, I mean? _

The little boy's pulse quickened. He shrugged and said he wouldn't know- he'd never kissed a girl.

The other boy looked thoughtful. _I could try it, you know, _he mused. _Since, like, you know. We're not, like, in love with each other, right? _

The little boy swallowed hard and nodded.

The other boy looked slightly uncomfortable. _So, um, could I try it? Now?_

The little boy looked surprised. He wanted to try kissing him?

His friend grinned somewhat sheepishly. _Well, yeah. I mean, you're the only one I could ask. You're my friend. _

The little boy watched as the other walked over and sat next to him. _You're okay with this... right? _The other boy seemed somewhat nervous. The little boy could only nod, barely able to breathe.

Thinking about it later, the little boy realised he couldn't remember several things about the kiss. He couldn't remember what he said or did afterwards, but he thought that he sort of lightly laid his head on the other's shoulder. He couldn't remember if his eyes were open or closed during it. He couldn't remember if he had made any attempt to kiss him back.

But it didn't really matter, honestly. After all, he remembered the important things, like the feel of his lips against his. He remembered the soft feel of his hair tangled in his fingers. He remembered his body pressed against the other's. He remembered his joy, his happiness, his exhilaration.

It didn't last very long- ten seconds, at the most. But to the little boy, it felt like an eternity. He had waited so long- _far too long_- to do this.

When the other boy broke the kiss, they both breathed deeply. The other boy stared at his friend for a long while, and finally said:

_You kissed me back._

The little boy blushed and protested indignantly. The other grinned. _Yes, you did, _he objected. _Your hands were in my hair. _The little boy denied it again, and the other boy just shrugged.

When asked if he liked it, the other boy looked away with a soft look in his eyes. _I dunno, _he murmured. _I kinda... did. _When realising what that must have sounded like, he spluttered, _Not because it was you or anything, though! _Then it was the little boy's turn to shrug carelessly. It bothered him that the one he loved would say such a thing, but what could he do?

The other boy, eager to break the silence, asked jokingly, _So, how was I?_

The little boy looked up and told him that it was nice, but he really didn't have anything to compare it to.

The other boy gaped at his friend. _That was... your first? _The little boy nodded. _But... you're okay with that? _He nodded again.

The other boy sat silently, obviously deep in thought. When he finally looked up, he asked his friend:

"Ishida, do you love me?"

The little boy was stunned. His throat closed and he could only gape wordlessly, his face burning. The other boy looked pleadingly at him. _Please answer me, _he whispered.

_I... _the little boy stammered. He looked into his friend's amber eyes- _the friend who had stayed by his side- _and gave the smallest of nods.

_Really? _he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. _Why didn't you say? _

The little boy looked away, close to tears. His friend, however, grabbed his hand. _I think... I love you too,_ he whispered. The little boy looked at him, a flurry of emotions raging inside him.

Then he leaned in for another kiss.

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And so, reader, our tale comes to an end.

Some of you may be wondering how I know what happened. It's not that they told me- they were afraid (_those two teenage boys) _of what the world might say- so they'd stayed quiet.

It's not that I'm omnipresent or something- far from it, it fact. I have too many faults to be anything like that.

Perhaps it's because I was there. _But how can you have been there? _you ask. _They were alone, were they not? _

You're right. They were alone.

At any rate, the pair is still happily together. And whatever my source, I can tell you one thing:

That little boy isn't so little anymore. And he's got an incredibly sexy boyfriend that he wouldn't give up for the world. I should know- that little boy is me.

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_This is all there is to be told- until we meet again._

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AN: OMG DONE. Took me about three to four days to finish A I'm happy with it though. :D I used everything from my own experience so I hope I was able to convey my emotions correctly... And I'm not British! I just like British spelling a lot better XD If you liked, please review! Thank you for reading!


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